Conditions
by Mother of Memory
Summary: In another time and another place, Petunia learns to reach out. A Harry Potter retelling. Chapter Two: In which Harry sees an old friend, makes some new ones, and things slowly start to go pearshaped.
1. Fear

**Conditions**

By Mother of Memory

_A Harry Potter Fanfiction_

* * *

Petunia watched her nephew as he lay in his crib. 

Dudley was asleep on his blanket in front of the windows, sprawled out in the sunshine like a cat. Harry was much smaller and had an unfortunate tendency to roll about in his sleep. If he'd been an adult, Petunia might have said he was thrashing about in a nightmare… but Harry was barely over a year and babies didn't have nightmares –did they?

Perhaps wizard babies did. It wouldn't have surprised her, they weren't normal in any other regard… but she wasn't sure. When Lily had had nightmares windows shattered and things flew about the room. Either Harry was a calmer sort or he just didn't have the same strength his mother had.

Talent, he had. Petunia could attest to that after she'd come in from fetching the post one day to find motes of light dancing over the boy's bassinet. The child had clapped his hands and laughed, patting at them the way Dudley had his mobile.

Her nephew was all together tiny and frail almost. He'd gotten his mother's bone structure that was for sure. One of the things Petunia thanks her stars for every day was that her son had inherited his father's bones and not hers. Lily's frame had given her a sort of elfin delicacy because she was so short. Petunia had inherited their father's height and looked like a version of Lily that had been stretched thin. Between her and his father, Dudley was doomed to be tall. He'd soon dwarf his cousin.

Harry slept curled up on his side in a fetal curl. Petunia wasn't sure how she felt about it. Dudley still slept in that carefree sprawl that only small children managed with his belly up and his arms akimbo. Her father had once commented that babies slept like that until something hurt them. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of any child being hurt so early on.

So far he hadn't been as… _intense_ as Lily had been.

The fairy lights had been the most drastic thing she'd seen the child do. Harry talent seemed more… benign than Lily's had been. Her sister had been forever enchanting things and making them behave in unnatural and more often irritating fashions. As far as she was concerned she could go her entire life without having her tea kettle sing 'Waltzing Matilda' when the water was ready.

Harry didn't enchant things. He seemed… quieter. Petunia had caught on quick that her nephew was never subject to the same crib fevers and rashes that Dudley was… and the more time Dudley spent near his cousin the less he was too. As first she'd been afraid that contact with his cousin had been turning Dudley strange, after all… whatever had given Lily magic was in Petunia too even if it hadn't blossomed for her.

Then one night Harry had given himself a nasty scratch on the cheek after an abortive attempt at standing up. Petunia had gone to clean his face and put a bandage on it as a matter of course, but no sooner has she wiped the blood away then the scratch had healed itself.

Now, in a pinch Petunia's firsthand knowledge of the magical world might be enough to fill a thimble. She only knew what tidbits of information that Lily had dropped in passing conversation, but even she knew that there were Healers among the Wizards and Witches.

So she sat and contemplated her nephew while Dudley napped.

Perhaps it could be done… Petunia knew her contact with magical folk had been limited to her sister and her half-cocked husband. While not inherently evil, neither had been the most pleasant of folk. Lily had always had a tendency to wound even as she tried to sympathize and her husband had been one of those rich handsome types who had never really had to work for anything in life.

Part of Petunia wanted to believe that bad blood would always tell, but surely after knowing so much loss in his short life the boy could be taught? There wasn't a way to stop him from being magical, not that Petunia hadn't considered it. She remembered the one time her parents had tried to keep Lily from being what she was. That… magic had built up inside her like she was a bottle of soda pop that someone kept shaking. That awful pressure had built up and up until one day Lily broke down and shattered every window for a mile around.

No, this was the sort of thing that had to be used or it would just pile up. So while her nephew's crib magic was frightening in one fashion, it was comforting in another.

With hands which shook only a little, Petunia reached into the crib and smoothed her nephew's downy cap of soft black hair. She paused, as though waiting for something… but nothing happened. No lightening came to strike her down. There was no sense of wrongness… just soft hair and warm skin beneath her palm.

The boy stirred under her hand and burbled in his sleep. He wasn't talking quite yet, being a more reserved child. Dudley wasn't talking either exactly, more like animated practicing.

Taking a breath, Petunia lifted her nephew out of his crib and laid him against her shoulder. The boy didn't wake up, but the contact seemed to soothe his sleep. "That's a good boy…" She murmured. "Good Harry. Sleep quietly."

When Vernon came home that night, the boys were on the mat together playing with the wooden trains that the old woman from Wisteria Walk had given them as a present. He paused in the doorway for a moment and watched, then he turned to cast a questioning eye at his wife.

"They play well together." Petunia chose her words with care. "I think he'll be all right."

Vernon looked back to the mat just in time to see his son squint down at a scrape on his knuckles and present it imperiously to his cousin. "Kiss better!" Without hesitating, Harry patted his hand to his mouth and pressed his fingers to Dudley's maltreated hand. Dudley examined his hand once Harry was finished and turned to beam at his mother. "All better!" He declared.

There was a pause as Vernon frowned at the children in thought. "… your sister was different, wasn't she. Did you say that she…?"

Petunia looked up from her knitting. "She was. She did." She made a few more stitches before letting her hands fall into her lap. "I think Harry is different. Lily broke things or made them fly around. She didn't fix them. Maybe Harry is just different… or maybe Lily was. I don't know, I'm just... just tired of being afraid of a baby."

Without speaking, her husband set his case down by the door and tossed his coat at the rack. As usual he missed and it fell to the floor. Later he'd go and pick it up when she couldn't see and pretend like he'd made it in the first place.

He sat down next to her and draped an arm over her shoulder. For a while neither of them spoke as they watched their son and nephew.

* * *

Notes: So this was the prologue. No, this isn't necessarily going to be a 'nice Dursleys' story. I find the canon Dursleys to be a little over the top. There are many different levels of abuse and some of it isn't even intentional. Here I'm going to explore what might have happened if the Dursleys had reacted to Harry a little differently. We're starting out with the Dursleys as a young couple, so of course they're going to be a little different than when we got a good look at them in the canon.

What I'm going for is to see how much they change Harry and how much Harry changes them.


	2. Great Things

**Chapter One**

_Great Things_

_

* * *

_

10 years later…

Petunia wasn't even remotely surprised to see the letter in the post. She'd been watching for it since Harry's tenth birthday. She frowned at the address and thought (not for the first time) that the Magical World's collective sense of humor left something to be desired.

The letter was written on creamy vellum in green ink and addressed to Mr. Harry Potter at Number Four Privet Drive, The Second Bedroom, Asleep on the Desk.

She made a mental note to have Harry carry a note to the Headmaster of the school when the term started letting him know how she felt about such distasteful jokes. She was well aware that They probably knew everything going on in her house and the constant location of her nephew, but rubbing her nose in it went beyond the bounds of good taste.

'Perhaps there are other schools.' She thought to herself as she kicked the front door shut behind her and made her way into the kitchen. Dudley was at the table watching his cousin stand at the stove with a rapt expression.

Harry was the only one of her boys who had any skill at cooking. Dudley's meals were passable, bachelor food really, but Harry had a certain natural flare for the art. At the moment he was watching a pancake bubble in the pan while he counted softly under his breath. Petunia peeked over his shoulder. "It should be fine, dear. You don't have to count to exactly _sixty_ seconds. Once all the bubbles pop on top and stay open it should be just fine." She laid the letter on the counter by his elbow. "Mail for you dear… are those blueberries?"

The smaller boy grinned sheepishly. "I asked Dudley what he wanted for his birthday and he said blueberry pancakes."

Petunia turned a basilisk eye on her son. "You may have _two_ and don't let me catch you complaining when you give yourself a belly ache. You know they upset your stomach." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "You didn't ask…"

"Not when Harry makes 'em." Dudley countered. "It's my birthday! I only wanted two anyway." He grinned.

"Oh, you _boys_…" Petunia sighed. "All right, since it's your birthday I will allow it. HOWEVER, don't let me catch you making your cousin change your food around again. You, young man, are on a diet…" She paused for effect. "… or do you want to be the one who has to explain to your father why you're out of the weight requirements for the Junior Wrestling Team when you get into Smeltings?"

"Ruddy Wrestling team…" Dudley muttered. Then his attention reverted sharply back to his cousin. "Oi, Harry! What's in the letter? Are you going to open it or not? It's not going to get up and read itself!"

"Maybe it will." Harry replied in the tone, which he knew drove his more impatient cousin bats as he flipped the pancake and nudged it around in the pan. "So you want bacon with these or the fruit medley?"

"Gaaaah… medley, then. The rashers don't taste right with fruit." Dudley eyed the letter. "I bet it's another school. You didn't apply to Smeltings even though they offered you a scholarship! So where are you gonna go then? If you say 'Stonewall' again you're gonna be wearing these pancakes."

"Harry is going to go to his mother's Alma Mater, Duddy." Petunia replied as she eyed the note. She recognized it, all right. It was just like the one Lily had gotten. Part of her was nervous, but the other part was excited. When Lily had gotten her letter, their parents had taken her out alone and hadn't spoken about where they got her school supplies. There was a part of Petunia that had been curious about that for over 20 years.

Harry eyed his aunt as he flipped the finished pancake onto a plate with its twin in misfortune and slid it in front of Dudley, who was already reaching for the sugar-free syrup. "Would you like some, aunt Petunia? I've still got some batter."

"I ate earlier, dear, but thank you. Put it to the side and I'll make it for your Uncle when he gets back from the shops." Dudley had inherited his abusive relationship with blueberries from his father. However, one of the bits of subconscious magic that Harry did was to remove whatever it was in the berries that irritated his relatives whenever he cooked. He had no idea how he did it, except that he did. "Now open up the letter before your cousin turns himself wrong-side-out."

"All right, I will." Harry switched off the oven as he took his seat at the table and idly thumbed the letter open. He pulled out the thick letter and unfolded it. A tiny crease of thought appeared in-between's Harry's eyes the way it usually would when he'd come across something unexpected. "Aunt Petunia, this letter says…"

Petunia gave into temptation and plucked the letter from her nephew's hands. "Dear Mister Potter, We are pleased to notify you that…. Hmmm.. yes… yes… that looks to be right." She ruffled Harry's mop with one hand while she folded it shut. "Your mother got a letter just like it. They're being serious. Remember the talk we had last Christmas?"

Harry nodded as he looked at the contents of the letter. "… but where do you even _find_ dragon-hide gloves?" He asked in a small voice.

Dudley blinked and held out his hand for the letter. Harry handed it over and let his cousin read. The larger boy cocked an eyebrow at him. "Maybe they'll make you fight a dragon and skin it, Harry-head."

"Oh, that's fine then. I'll just feed you to it. That ought to kill it." Harry replied, clearly elsewhere. "I wonder what they mean by 'Transfiguration'? I know what the word means, but that can't be right…" He mused out loud.

"No, dear. You're right." Petunia corrected him. She took the letter back from Dudley and examined the envelope. Sure enough there was a ticket inside and directions to some place called 'Diagon Alley'. 'Diagonally' …again with the less-than-witty humor. "Wizards use magic to change one thing into something else. It was your mother's despair, she preferred charms."

"Does it stay like that, Mummy? I mean, forever?" Dudley ate in-between bites. A life with his cousin had made the fanciful commonplace to him and it would take more than the revelation that his cousin was going to go to a school for Wizards to make him miss out on his forbidden treat.

Petunia had to think on that one. "No, I don't think so dear. I think your Aunt told me that things usually revert back after a time. If I recall correctly then the method for permanently changing something was Transmutation, but it's a very advanced art and takes a lot of power. I think it's only taught at the University level after you've been recommended for it by a governmental board."

"Harry, you should learn to do that." Dudley was undeterred. "It'd be cool."

"Don't be silly, dear." Petunia corrected her son. "Your cousin is going to study to be a Healer. Although… it may be of use… do ask your teachers, Harry."

"So where will Harry get his school supplies, Mum?" Dudley paused for a draught of orange juice. "I want to see where they sell Wizard stuff!" Petunia had learned to know when her son was in the process of getting a Bad Idea, but for the life of her she couldn't see a way to head this one off. "Does the letter say? Let's go today, we can go see!"

"Not today, dear. Your guests are on the way and it's all the way out in London. We'll go Saturday." Petunia folded up the letter and handed it to Harry who folded it into his pocket. "Your father wouldn't want to be left behind and besides he has the car."

"Oh, that's right…" Dudley looked to Harry. "Well, that works out for you then. No Smeltings and their ruddy sticks for you!"

"Dudley! Language!" Petunia reproved.

"Sorry, mum." Dudley winced. "… but the first kid who uses their stick on me is gonna get it back in the eye." He added as an aside to Harry.

Harry took some of the fruit medley for himself without comment, but he did give his cousin a wink. Soon Pierce would be over and they'd go to the Zoo. Harry hadn't been since he was small since it was so far away and he usually had after school activities or homework to do. Plus, tutoring Dudley was a full time job on its own.

After breakfast, Harry went upstairs to tidy up his room and give Dudley a few minutes alone with his presents to figure out what they were.

* * *

Saturday came in its own sweet time.

By the time the weekend came around, Dudley was about to burst out of his skin in excitement. He'd grown up with his cousin's talents and constantly chafed against the restrictions his parents had placed on them. Sometime Harry suspected that Dudley was even more excited than he was.

Then again, Dudley was slated for Smeltings, a fate both boys had agreed to be somewhat lacking in the luster that Vernon ascribed to it. Dudley was rather phlegmatic in his own way and didn't mind going there if it made his dad happy. Having single-handedly badgered Dudley through primary school, Harry rather thought his cousin was an underachiever and that one school was as good as another in his eyes. It was good to see his cousin actually excited about something, although Dudley was a hazard when his blood was up.

Aunt Petunia ended up driving anyway after Uncle Vernon got called into work. They'd all received a rude awakening that morning when Vernon got that call. Harry was willing to swear that he saw the rafters shaking. As a consolation they both got some extra pocket money for the trip.

Upon arriving in London they stopped in a café to give Aunt Petunia some time to recover her composure. To say she hated driving long distances was putting it mildly, but a nice sit-down in a sidewalk café on a pretty seat with a plate of biscuits and a cup of tea did wonders for her mood. Soon they were able to forge ahead into London and track down 'Diagon Alley'.

Harry was the first one to spot the 'Leaky Cauldron'. His Aunt and Cousin walked right by it at first, but once he pointed it out they registered it. After a few moments of observation, Harry realized that most people seemed to pass it by without even giving it a glance. Now, considering that there was an old man in a bright pink overcoat and a giant hat decorated with a taxidermy cat sitting out in front blowing smoke circles that formed hearts, stars, and moons as they left his pipe… well, Harry was pretty sure that something else was going on.

"Mum, lookit that…" Dudley barely restrained himself from pointing as his mother ushered them inside.

On the inside 'The Leaky Cauldron' looked like about what you'd expect from any grubby London pub, somewhat grimy since so human being magical or otherwise could keep up with the mess, a little crowded, and full a comfortably boisterous customers. Harry could smell a faint touch of cabbage, although it was overpowered by the mingled scents of all-day stew, fry-ups, and sausage.

Aunt Petunia had her 'Expression' on as she looked over the décor so Dudley and Harry ushered her through before there could be any incident. The last time they'd missed her on the uptake she'd caused a fuss that got them banned from at least four restaurants in Little Whinging. While, to be honest, it was no great loss considering the restaurants neither Dudley nor Harry were in the mood to be part of a spectacle.

The letter has said something about the entrance to Diagon Alley being in the back of The Leaky Cauldron, but when they arrived in the alley behind the pub they found only a brick wall.

"Oh, bother." Aunt Petunia muttered. She laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You mother mentioned something about there being a trick to getting in, but I can't remember what it is for the life of me. We'll have to go get someone to let us in."

"Is it your first time through, ducks?" A small old woman stuck her head out through the back door.

Harry nodded and stepped aside as the old woman shuffled past him, leaning heavily on her cane. She paused and squinted at him. "I know who you are, Boy. You might want to cover up that scar unless you want to be the center of a scene." She turned to eye Harry's Aunt and Cousin. "You're muggles, aintcha?"

"I am not a witch, if that is what you are asking." Aunt Petunia's tone was mostly even, which was a feat. "Nor is my son. My nephew will be attending Hogwarts this year."

The old witch chuckled and nodded. "Muggles." She confirmed. "All right, I'll let you in today. Next time your nephew will have his wand so he'll be able to open the wall. Now, Harry, pay attention, you might need to remember this in a hurry one day."

As the old witch pulled a gnarled little rowan stick out from her sleeve, the rear door opened again to expel a young girl, about Harry's age with bushy brown hair. Her parents were not far behind. Harry realized she and her parents had the same sort of shell-shocked expression in their eyes that Aunt Petunia was sporting.

"Oh, more tots. Wonderful." The witch muttered, although her tone cast some doubt on how she felt about that. After a brief moment of scrutiny the witch turned to the brick wall and used her wand to tap a series of four bricks that were somewhat lighter than the rest of them, first left then right then top then bottom. Harry made a mental note of the pattern for future reference.

"Thank you, Miss…" Harry hung on the last word, realizing he didn't even know the witch's name.

"Miss Englebright, Augusta Englebright, and it were nothing, duckie." She reached up to pat Harry's cheek with a withered hand. "There's more than one of us who remember you and what you did. Stop by my table on your way out and I'll have some more advice for you. No offense, love, but you've got the look of a muggle-born about you and Old Augusta will see you flying straight." She looked over Harry's shoulder at the young girl. "You too, duck. If you have any questions see me or Old Tom behind the bar."

"Thank you." The girl had a lovely light soprano that was somewhat marred by her prominent front teeth and copious amounts of hair. She was in what Aunt Petunia called 'that awkward stage of being a girl'.

Harry held the 'door' as first his aunt, then his cousin, then the girl and her parents went through then he let it swing shut behind him. "What a young gentleman!" The girl's mother tittered as she passed and a slightly smug expression flickered over Aunt Petunia's face.

"I'm Hermione Granger." The girl thrust out a hand while peering at his face in excitement. "Did you get a letter too? Oh you did! I can see it in your pocket. Wonderful! I'm so excited. Did you know that you could do magic before?" She was prepared to launch into a volley of excited questions, but her mother reined her in with practiced ease.

"Don't be a pest, Mione-love, especially after he was so nice as to open the door for you." Mrs. Granger smiled at Harry and his Aunt. "Thank you for that, dear. I could see that was going to be a problem from the moment Mione opened the back door. Is this your first time here too?" She addressed her last question to Petunia, who nodded. "Well then, why not let's shop together? Two heads are better than one, or in this case six heads are better than three!"

Petunia cast a Glance on the surrounding area and nodded. "I think that might be wise." After a round of introductions, they set forth.

To say Diagon Alley was a daunting sight was to understate matters. The street was a veritable crush of colors, lights, texture, shapes, smells, and sensations. The individual components were all the same as a regular London street during a Faire. Shops stood open to the public draped in festive colors and fabrics on which they arranged their wares. Vendors stood on the streets hawking their wares, which ranged from Roasted Manticore Toes to authentic Wollycobbles straight from Wales.

The Grangers, the Dursleys, and one Potter forged on ahead into the fray, with Mr. Granger reading off Hermione's school list. "All right, first stop I think is wands. That is, unless you have any objections, Mrs. Dursley?"

"No, no." Petunia frowned at a grimy tot who presented a chain of something called a 'Fell-lolly' for only two 'knuts'. "Although, perhaps a bank… I think they use a different currency here." She had that funny little crease between her brows that she got when she was trying to remember something. "That's right. Lily used to be late for visits on occasion because she had to exchange money. I think they use coins instead of paper pounds."

After some asking around, the group finally found their way to the Wizard Bank, called Gringotts. After receiving something of a scare when they met their first goblin, they managed to get a run down of the conversion table and the style of wizarding cash. Petunia and the Grangers were also able to procure keys that would allow them into Diagon alley through the local branches of Gringotts until they were able to get their houses hooked up to something called the 'floo network'.

One of the more important documents they received was a list that the bank kept of recommended shopping for the new witch or wizard, as well as several maps to show them where to go to get what they were looking for.

The first item on the list was, as Mr. Granger had surmised, a place called Olivander's. As shoppes on Diagon Alley went, Olivander's seemed to be of a lower key. In fact, Harry was certain he could have passed it on the street at home and mistaken it for an old antique shop.

When they entered, they were greeted by a wizened old man whose misty blue eyes latched onto Harry straight off. "Hmmm… yes. I thought I might be seeing you this year." Harry stood stock still as the old man, presumably Olivander, circled him. Once he seemed to have taken his measure of Harry, Mister Olivander retreated back to a social distance. He smiled at his customers. "I remember every wand I've ever sold and when I look at you I remember two of them. Your mother's was a good willow wand, especially suited to charms and nicely swishy. Your father's wand was oak and bendy. It lent itself well to transfiguration." His hazy eyes traveled over Hermione. "Aah, a new generation. I'll have to be careful with you. Who would like to go first?"

"Harry does!" Hermione smiled unrepentantly when Harry glowered in her general direction. Over the course of the day, Harry had concluded that Hermione didn't like being out of her depth and until she felt like she'd found her feet she was going to be using him as a research aide. Really, if he were to be honest, he didn't mind. They seemed to mesh well and he was glad for the opportunity to go into school with at least one friend.

In grade school, he'd never really gotten on with anyone. He'd run with Dudley as a matter of course and because Dudley had a habit of hammering anyone who made fun of his cousin's glasses or skinny legs. As a result of this, those people who otherwise wouldn't have rejected Harry for his gawky demeanor were reluctant to approach him for fear of braving Dudley. Harry was fond of Dudley and had a patient sort of tolerance for Dudley's little gang, all of whom he tutored at one point or another, however none of them were especially good company when one wasn't terribly fond of cars or older girls or fighting.

For the record, Dudley was having the time of his life and routinely had to be pulled out of random shops that caught his interest. He had a million questions for anyone who would give him the time of day and was racking up a mounting list of 'things it would be really COOL for Harry to learn'. Harry loved his cousin in much the same way that one loved any overly large, loud, and overbearing creature: with a lot of patience and a short leash.

Their family dynamic could have easily gone sour, but Harry had learned early on that it was his job to look out for Dudley. Aunt Petunia had explained to him at an early age that Dudley was exuberant and prone to acting before he thought things through. His father was the same way. Harry privately had his doubts about the argument. On one hand, Dudley was inarguably spoiled and indulged by his parents. Harry was too, to some degree. Aunt Petunia had never really let him far from her sight. If Dudley was his father's child then Harry was Petunia's.

Some of the differences in their treatment, Harry attributed to temperament. Dudley adored objects and had a small mountain of them. Whenever his birthday rolled around there was always a trove of gifts waiting for him. Meanwhile, Harry wasn't fond of clutter. Anything item he was given was one that he'd have to find a place for, dust, polish, and keep in repair so his aunt and uncle tended to give him practical things like clothing, books, and useful items that he could justify making space for. The most extravagant thing in Harry's bedroom was a telescope that his Aunt had found in a yard sale, still in good repair.

Olivander smiled again as Harry shook himself free of his thoughts. "Come with me, young man. We'll find a wand for you."

* * *

Hermione watched her new friend as the strange old man who own the wand shop shoved wand after wand into his hand. She wasn't sure what kind of signal the shop keeper was looking for that he'd found the right one, but the challenge seemed to invigorate him. With every failure the man seemed to gain a jolt of frenetic energy until the air around him almost vibrated. Finally an odd expression of mingled triumph and anticipation glimmered in his mist-colored eyes, like sun peeking through the clouds.

"Yes… I think… well, it's worth a try…" With careful hands, Mister Olivander withdrew a boxed wand from a safe beneath his desk. Hermione looked on with interest. It must have been a special sort of wand to be locked away like that. "Holly with phoenix feather is such an unusual combination. It is eleven inches long and quite supple. Here, give it a try."

Hermione felt that buzz in the air intensify as Harry accepted the wand. For a moment the sensation cut out all together and the world was… quiet. No sound, no breath, no motion: the calm before…

The wall of power that slammed into her knocked Hermione back on her heels. For a moment all she could hear, feel, or see was Harry… not just his physical self… she could explain it but the feel of Harry flooded the room with red-gold intensity. He felt like a summer storm, wet and warm and power. She could smell… she could smell damp forests and rushing water, the crisp tang of white water rapids. When she tasted her lips she could almost taste seared atmosphere. Every hair on her arms was standing straight up and at attention.

The feeling faded and Hermione blinked back the dots dancing before her eyes. Harry's wild black hair was settling around his ears and papers fluttered to the ground all around him. Later her father would tell her that was whirlwind of light and color formed around Harry and abated almost immediately, but Hermione had seen something completely different happen at that moment.

If she looked hard enough, Hermione could still see flickers of that red-gold lightening storm trickling through Harry, centered around wherever his wand was on his person. The wand itself seemed borderline sentient and radiated a sort of resonant hum that put her in mind of some large cat lolling about in a contented doze.

Olivander was clearly suffering the same aftermath that she was as he straightened his glasses and mustered a smile. "I thought it might take to you." The old wizard sobered and shut the door behind them with a flick of his own wand. "Now, I have something to tell you, young man." He gave the assembled party a look over. "I remember every wand I've ever sold and the phoenix that gave me the feather now housed in your wand only ever donated one other." Olivander reached out to touch Harry's forehead with his cool papery hands. "Yew, thirteen inches, and… rigid. I remember it well. It gave you this scar, young man." Olivander seemed trouble for a moment, but it passed. "I send all my wands out into the world, not knowing what they will do. The twin to your wand did… great things… _terrible_ things, yes… but great. I think… I think that we can expect much of you, Young Master Potter."

* * *

Hermione was an easier match than Harry had been. They had a nice sit down until Olivander matched Hermione up with a rowan wand with a core of Dragon's Heartstrings. As her hand closed around the and handle, Harry felt a pleasant breeze, warm and fruity wrap around him… for a second he could have sworn that he was standing in an apple orchard during late summer, surrounded by full lush fruit.

Olivander sent them on their way with a care kit apiece, his card in case of emergency repairs, and a fond pat for each of them. From there they visited a bookshop by the name of Flourish and Botts. It very nearly took a crowbar to get Hermione back out again and Petunia just 'happened' to find a few pre-mediwizard prep books outlining the course load one would be looking at when one was starting out for the medimagic field.

From there they broke for lunch in a street side café run by a jolly fat old wizard who made a great show of summoning their food right to their table and conjuring a cornet of flowers and faerie lights for Hermione when he learned that she was an honest-to-goodness first generation witch.

There was a brief stop in the apothecary for their first year potion kits and what the brewer in the back called an 'owl-order catalogue' for refills. That resulted in some confused questions, a brief explanation, and a trip to Eeylop's Owl Emporium in order to confirm that Wizarding mail was in fact carried by owls.

"Oh, mum, may I have one please? I've never had a pet of my own and it would be so useful…" Hermione was busy pleading with her somewhat skeptical mother while Harry communed with a lovely snowy owl, who nibbled fondly on the ends of his hair.

"Mrs. Dursley, you said your sister was a witch." Mrs. Granger forestalled any further pleading by starting a conversation with Petunia, who nodded. "Did she have an owl?"

"Well, yes." Petunia hesitantly reached out to run her knuckles down the down breast feathers of a serious old barn owl that permitted the caress in much the way an elderly man accepts his just due. "Although, Aga… Agamemnon, I think his name was, seemed like more of a pet than a courier. She did use him to carry her personal mail. Come to think of it…" She frowned and turned to the shop keeper. "There are public post owls, yes?" At the shop keeper's nod, she went on. "Are there any in Surrey? Yes? Little Whinging?" There the shopkeeper frowned and shook his head, no.

"Sorry, ma'am. There's no wizard population out that a'ways. What witches and wizards live out there tend t'have their own carriers. Y'looking t'get one for the lad?" Eeylop gave Harry –who could have been run over by wild horses and not notice- a significant glance.

"Well, I don't know…" Petunia demurred, mindful of the purse. She wasn't worried about money, but she hadn't factored in a pet with her calculation of how much she would need to spend on school supplies.

"Mum! Mum! Ask him if he takes normal money!" Dudley tugged on her sleeve and then turned to Eeylop. "Mister, can you take pounds?"

Eeylop smiled. "I can. Does your cousin have a particular owl in mind?" He reached under the counter and brought out a battered old lock box, a wave of his wand cleared the dust from the top and Eeylop unlocked it to display a goodly amount of change. "You said pounds, yes? Too many sorts of muggle money in here… ah yes, I have some _pounds_ if you need change."

After some debate, Dudley settled an amount of his birthday money on the counter and received some wizard coins back as change. It took Eeylop a bit to do the conversation. By the time he was done, Hermione's parents had settled on getting an owl after finding a soft brown barn owl that seemed to dote on Hermione, sitting on her shoulder and hooting happily as she scratched his breast feathers.

"Happy Birthday, Harry-head!" Dudley grinned at the expression of shock as he gave his cousin the papers for his owl and a starter kit for her care and feeding. "Now you _hafta_ write me when we're away at school. The man there says she's very loyal and quite friendly and that she can fly around on her own because all of them are magical owls and can find anyone!"

Harry had to smile. "You just want me to check your homework for you." He teased, but hugged his cousin anyway. Dudley had never been bad, just self-centered, but every now and then he managed to do something nice.

"Well, yeah…" Dudley rolled his eyes. "It's an investment, but really getting owl letters at school would be so cool. Everyone else would have to wait on the post man, but not me! The man says that we can get a box for mum that she can put your letters in and that the owls will know when to come get them…" Dudley launched off into a happy tirade on all the things he'd learned about the owl and Harry tuned him out, only halfway listening.

Hermione declared that her owl's name would be Archimedes, after an owl in a movie she'd loved as a child. Harry named his owl Hedwig, after a name he'd come across in his potions text. The name seemed to settle on his owl like a comfortable blanket and she hooted a serene approval.

Hedwig rode on his shoulder the rest of the afternoon or flew a short ways overhead when she felt restless as did Archimedes. The owls seemed to get on well and often shared a perch on a street sign whenever their owners went into a shop.

The day ended all too soon with a stop back in the Leaky Cauldron to speak with old Augusta who gave them some booklets that she'd picked up in the interim from someone in what she called the Ministry of Magick.

"They're biased and silly on several points, but good to have as a reference. I've included some contacts for you to get on the Floo Network. They have them… whatchamacallits… telly-fones, but you'll have to ask the directory for the numbers. Here are some names about the Ministry of folks who don't mind answering questions… especially Weasley there. He'd got about five boys what's been in Hogwarts so far with another about to go in and a girl for next year. He's in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, so if ye let him natter on at you with questions about your stove then he'll be glad to answer any questions you have."

"Thank you very much, Ma'am." Harry tucked their packet into one of his bags. One of the shop keepers had been kind enough to put an enlarging and weight reducing charm on them so that it was easier to carry their purchases. Hopefully he'd be able to find the packet again.

"Also, next time you want to pop 'round use that wand in your pocket to call the Knight Bus." Augusta jabbed a bony finger at Harry's pocket. "Hold our yer right hand with your wand and it'll call the biggest ugliest purple bus you'll ever see." She paused for an earthly chuckle. "They're faster and easier'n driving up in one of them muggle contraptions." She squinted at him. "You come an' visit me, boy. I'm here most days, if not Tom over there knows where I'll be. I'm a lonely old biddy. I like company."

"Of course he will." Petunia took Harry by the hand. "I'm sorry, dear. It's time to go. If we leave now we'll have just enough time to pick up a supper on the way home and have it on the table before your Uncle tries to cook again."

* * *

The ride home was uneventful, save for some expected sparks and whistles from the things Dudley had bought while in London. Hedwig had opted to fly home and if Harry looked out the window he could see her silent white form keeping easy pace with them in the darkness.

Dudley slept in cars. This was not a problem in and of itself. The problem was that he snored when he slept upright. They'd compromised by sitting him up front in the passenger seat and leaning the seat back so he could have a lie down.

Harry paged through one of his textbooks in the back seat. They'd stopped at a deli and had some cold chicken and sides that they could heat up at home. As a general rule, Harry didn't care for take-away. He preferred knowing exactly what was in his food and he'd heard too many restaurant boogey-tales.

The textbook was for potions. It seemed like one of the safer subjects. The other books all involved use of his wand and Harry wasn't quite ready to start playing with that. Potions reminded him a little of chemistry or cooking, although there _had_ to be magic involved. Some of the more advanced brews in the back of the book called for ingredients like aconite and pure-grade belladonna. If Harry had mixed those things together without doing something to it then he doubted he'd end up with anything beyond a poisonous mess. Most of the potions needed to be stirred with one's wand so that had to be the catalyst.

In fact, if he looked at the book like an esoteric sort of recipe book then it started to make a lot more sense. There wasn't much background in the text, so he didn't get any information on the _why_ of it all only the _how_. He could only assume that they'd go into the theory in class or that it was only taught at a higher level.

'Well, they'd hardly start us off with more than the basics. Hardly anyone learns to read without learning the alphabet first.' Harry paged back into the glossary and began to read through the general of basic components. It was a trick he'd picked up in History class. If he read through the glossary a few times, then he usually had a better time of picking up new information when he went through the chapters because parts of it were familiar. He knew nothing about the magical world and that didn't sit well with him. Harry was used to _knowing_ things. Ignorance bothered him, especially when it was his own.

He'd start off with Potions. It felt familiar so it'd be a good start. Then he'd move onto his Charms text. It seems like a less intimidating version of Transfiguration and the book was written in a warmer tone. Transfiguration would come before Defense against the Dark Arts because… well, despite Aunt Petunia's thoughts on the subject, Harry was still a ten-year-old boy and DADA seemed a little thrilling. He was saving that for his figurative 'dessert'.

* * *

The car was quiet when Petunia pulled it into the drive. She could see the sitting room lights on and the large form of her husband sitting in his chair. She could hear the faint strains of talk radio on the quiet night air and breathed a sigh of relief. If he was listening to the radio then he probably hadn't tried to fix anything for himself.

Men could cook. Her nephew was living proof of that. However, she suspected that there was some sort of recessive gene in the Dursley blood line that had passed from Father to Son, which made them unmitigated disasters in the kitchen.

She saw Vernon stand up and make for the door when she switched off the engine and popped open the driver's side door. The scent of her garden greeted her and she relaxed just a little from the relief of being out of the car. She loathed driving and would be quite happy next year when Harry could summon that 'Knight Bus' to take them School Shopping.

Hedwig swooped down from the dark sky and alighted in one of the ornamental trees in the front yard. Vernon eyed it with some surprise. Petunia waved to her husband and dropped a fond kiss on his cheek when he approached. "Hello, Dear." She murmured.

Vernon peered over her shoulder and into the car. "You'd think they'd be too old for sleeping in the car by now." He snorted. "Find everything all right? Was the drive good?"

Petunia gave a weak laugh. "We all made it and got all of Harry school supplies. We even got a chance to get most of Dudley's too." She peered into the backseat and smiled as she saw her nephew asleep with one of his textbooks open in his lap. Well, at least he wasn't hunched over his desk again. "I'll wake Harry, you get Dudders. There's a fair bit of goods to get into the house and put away."

She opened the backseat door by Harry slowly, just in case he was leaned up against it. He wasn't, the boy had an innate sense of balance. Petunia considered her sleeping nephew for a moment.

When had he gotten so _big_?

It seemed like just a few years ago that she'd found him on the doorstep with the morning paper and that damned note. There was a reason she didn't mesh well with the magical world. People who left orphaned babies on _doorsteps_ with notes explaining that their parents had just been _murdered_…

There were still a lot of issues that Petunia had with her dead sister. Most of them she would never get a chance to work out. It hadn't been easy to open up to Harry, not when he walked around with his father's face and his mother's eyes. Some days, she still had problems with it just because he was getting older and coming into his powers.

She never thought she'd be missing the days of diapers and bottles, but to be honest she missed the way Harry had been when he was a baby. Dudley had been a rambunctious little one even before he started walking, but Harry had loved to be held. As an infant he'd spent most of his time asleep on her shoulder or in his sling.

'You'll be different than your parents, Harry. You're going to _save_ lives. You'll do good things, great things…' She shuddered as the old Wand Shop man's words came back to her. "The twin to your wand did… great things… _terrible_ things, yes… but great."

Knowing what she knew about how her sister had died and why… she could help but feel afraid.

* * *

Notes: So this chapter was mostly me playing around with different viewpoints. I don't want this to be a regurgitation of Jk Rowling's work. Trust me, she did it better. Still, it's fun to look at the same situation through a different set of 'lenses'.


	3. Ever Mindful

**Chapter Two**

_Ever Mindful_

* * *

"So, why did you want to come back to the Zoo, Dudley?"

It had been Dudley's idea to come back. When they'd gone for his birthday, they'd been on something of a tight schedule. Uncle Vernon had made reservations at a restaurant that day and they'd had to cut the trip short.

Dudley looked up from where he was watching an Ocelot wash in its habitat. "Huh? Oh, no real reason –just wanted to go before we all left for school. Sides, Pierce was here last time and I wanted to see some of the big cats and the snakes without him blubbering in my ear like a big old baby."

"Makes sense," Harry eyed his lemon pop. They never lasted long enough. He'd have to part with another portion of his allowance and buy another one. "Do you want to see the reptile house? It's getting hot. There're enough animals in there that we can wait out some of the worst heat. Aunt Petunia will kill us if we start the semester with sunburns."

"Worry about yourself, Mister Pasty." Dudley sipped his cola. "I'll get a manly tan. You're the one who spends all day in doors. Do us all a favor and join a sport when you get to school. You could use some time outside."

"…whereas you could use a little time _inside_ with your text books." Harry countered. He finished off the last bits of his lemon pop. "Let's go. They spent all last week renovating the Reptile House and I want to see whether or not it was worth the money. The paper said they spent over 130,000 pounds on that thing."

"Only you would know that, Harry-head." Dudley snorted, but started off in the direction of the reptile house anyway. "You think they'll have any man eating anacondas in there?"

Harry could see when he was being baited. "I doubt even the hungriest anaconda would eat a man. For one thing they only eat once a month because it takes them so long to digest and for another thing they take so long to move that they literally just lay there and wait for things to walk into their mouths."

"You are such a kill-joy." Dudley rolled his eye. "Well at least the vipers are still cool. You can't tell me that a rattle-snake isn't vicious."

"Well, actually…" Harry broke off as Dudley scowled at him.

"Let me have my fantasies, Harry. You can tell me the truth after we get out of the house. You can _talk my ear off_ then."

Despite the rather scathing article Harry had seen about the Reptile House, he found it was much nicer than the old one. The previous specimen had been un-air-conditioned and on the fast track to becoming decrepit. He was pretty sure it had to have been built in the fifties. The snake habitats weren't as big as the environmentalist had liked, but they were much bigger than the old ones.

"Hey, they put in water fountains. Cool!" Dudley pointed out a rather Disney-fied water fountain that appeared to be a fiberglass sculpture of a coiled snake holding up a basin of water and spitting 'venom' into it.

"I'm going to go see the Pythons, Dudley. Are you coming?"

"I'm going to see the vipers first. There's a couple of Mambas in from Africa this month. They're going to be moved next week so I want to see them now." Dudley nodded towards the special displays in back. "You go. I'll catch up with you in a mo."

It was no secret that Harry liked the pythons. One in particular. They'd moved his tank, but it didn't take long to find him. Harry waited until the tank cleared up a bit and then approached. "Hey, there. You're looking bigger since I last saw you." He murmured.

The Brazilian python lifted his head at the sound of Harry's voice. "What elssse do I have to do? I sssleep. I eat. Is it any wonder that I grow? You have ssstayed the sssame sssize. Perhapsss you ssshould do the sssame."

"I'm a human. Humans grow slow." Harry grinned. He'd learned that he could understand snakes a long time ago when he'd come to the old Reptile House on a field trip in primary school. Suring the Zoo renovations, they'd moved the Reptile House to another location in Surrey that Harry could walk to after school. The boa constrictor was a recent addition. He'd only been brought in a few months before. Harry found he and the pythons got on rather well, which was surprising. The vipers were more talkative than the big pythons, but the pythons were more level headed. The vipers were actually rather excitable.

"Mossst humansss do not ssspeak my language." The python observed as he rearranged his coils. "Where is the larger one? He's usually with you."

"Dudley is looking at the vipers in the back. There are some Mambas in one of the rotating habitats in the other room that are on tour from Africa. They're on their way to a zoo in America. He wanted to see them before they left."

"He _would_." The python tasted the air in his tank. "Be careful, human there are othersss…"

The python's warning came too late. Harry didn't see the other boys before one of them shoved him aside. Caught by surprise, Harry lost his balance and fell over. He slapped one hand to his eyes and caught his glasses before they could go flying.

There were three of them, older from the looks of them, probably about fifteen. Harry recognized them from the one abortive attempt at joint-school field trip with St. Brutus's Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

"Move it, brat." One of them spat at him as they took his place at the rail.

The python simmered as much as a cold blooded creature could as the boy laughed, yelled, and tapped the glass at him.

"Lookit 'im, these things'll crush your bone. Won't they, Anthn'y?" One of them leered at the unspoken leader of the pack, a particularly large and dense primate named 'Anthony'.

Harry couldn't even begin to describe how much he hated Anthony's gang. He didn't have to deal with them so much since they gave Dudley's group some berth. They didn't like messing with folks who messed back. Still, the group delighted in tormenting the younger kids at Harry's school. Just once… just one he wanted to see them get their just desserts… just once…

Later on Harry would know that the hot/cold feeling that rushed through him was magic. Hindsight was ever perfect, after all. Still, he could only watch in silence as one of the boys reached out to lean on glass that wasn't there anymore…

The python was no slouch, despite being a big lethargic snake. He wasted no time sliding out of the habitat, right between the legs of the boy falling into his tank.

"Thanksss, Amigo." The snake murmured to Harry as he slid past. "Brazil, here I come!"

Anthony's crowd scattered like cockroaches and Dudley came running up to Harry. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" The larger boy glanced at the tank. "Tell me you didn't do it on purpose." He whispered.

"I… I got angry and they were teasing the python…" Harry felt himself start to shake in the wake of his adrenaline rush. The snake… he'd gotten loose. "Oh Hell, he's trying to go to Brazil."

Dudley sighed. "We'd better catch him. Ruddy snake was born in a tank. He doesn't know where Brazil is! It's on the other side of the bloody world!"

This wasn't the first time that Harry's magic had erupted in a display of mayhem. Dudley had been running interference for Harry ever since they were old enough to realize that Aunt Petunia didn't like 'noisy magic'. It had been Dudley who helped him get down off the roof when he'd re-appeared up there after running from some kids like Anthony and co.

With Harry's attention diverted, the glass reappeared in the front of the tank. Dudley and Harry spared a glance for the thug trapped inside and then looked at each other.

"He let the snake out. Didn't he, Harry?" Dudley declared.

"He must have gotten in there somehow to show off for his friends." Harry agreed.

A nearby adult overheard them and redirected his glare to the boy trapped inside the habitat. The cousins breathed a mutual sigh of relief as he went off for a security guard.

The snake was nowhere to be found. Dudley and Harry spent the rest of the day looking until it was time to go home or risk missing the last bus. Harry felt awful despite Dudley's assurances that they'd done their best.

"It's going to die." Harry explained. "It will probably make it through the summer, but the cold it going to kill it this winter."

"Well, at least it won't be in the cage anymore." Dudley pointed out. "You always said that's what he hated most. I think that maybe a summer outside getting to go where he wants might be worth only living a few more months to him."

Harry gave his cousin a slanted glance. "… when did you get to be smart like that?"

Dudley laughed and shrugged. "Well, usually you're the one who's got to be smart, but you can't do it all the time. I figure if at least one of us is being smart most of the time then we should be ok."

* * *

Aunt Petunia was the one to take Harry to the station. Dudley's train was leaving on the same day, but it was on a platform on the other side of the station.

"_You write, Harry-head, or when I see you next summer, you'll regret it." Dudley didn't do good-byes well so Harry had just nodded._

Harry and his Aunt stood between Platforms 9 and 10 while she squinted at the ticket. "Just when Wizards start to make sense they do things like this." She muttered as she looked around. "Platform 9 and ¾. You'd think they'd involve a booklet or a map or something. _Bloody_…"

"… um, Aunt Petunia?" Harry moved quite to interrupt his Aunt before she could start swearing. He nodded towards a group of red-haired children clustered around a small woman in a rough brown coat and a knitted shawl. They were dressed like the people he remembered from Diagon Alley. "I think they're headed towards our platform."

"Excellent eyes, Harry. Go catch one of them before we lose them." Petunia shooed him off in their direction. Harry bolted.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, ma'am!"

The woman seemed to have that sort of instinctive awareness of when someone was speaking to her that seemed to be part and parcel of motherhood. She stopped and looked around at him. Her cinnamon colored eyes flicked over his uniform and back behind him to where his Aunt was pulling the trolley after him. "Ah… bit lost, dear? First time?"

"Y-yes…" Harry panted, a bit out of breath from his sprint. "Um, my Aunt and I can't find the platform." He explained.

"Poor dear, well see that pillar there?" She stepped over to Harry's side and directed his eyes towards one of the thick brick pillars that stood situated about halfway between platforms 9 and 10. "You'll want to go through there. Here, my boys will show you. Fred, be a dear and go first."

The two oldest boys gave her identical looks of exasperation. "I'm George, Mum. Honestly, and you call yourself our mother."

The witch rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, dears…"

"Just kidding, Mum! You got it right!" Both of the twin bolted for the platform before she could go for her wand. Fred (or George) winked at him as they passed. "Keep an eye on us." He called back to Harry.

Aunt Petunia caught up to him just as the first twin (George?) went through the pillar. There was a subtle flash of light and he was gone. The second twin (Fred?) followed.

"Oh dear…" Harry heard his Aunt sigh. She patted his shoulder. "Good job, Harry. Thank you for helping us, Mrs. …?" Aunt Petunia trailed off as she realized they hadn't been introduced.

"Molly Weasely, my dear." The witch introduced herself. "Those two hellions who just went through to the platform were my twins, Fred and George. This one here…" She laid a hand on the shoulder of the smaller boy at her side, who side. "… is my second youngest, Ron. He'll be starting Hogwarts this year. This one here is Ginny, my youngest. She won't be starting until next year."

"I'm Petunia Dursley. This is my nephew, Harry." Petunia laid a hand on Harry's head and looked down at him. His thick black hair stuck up through her fingers, rather longer than it had been the day before. She gave a rueful smile and ruffled his hair. "This is Harry's first year as well. Maybe they'll find out why his haircuts don't last more than a day while he's a school."

"Ah, some crib magic will stick like that." Mrs. Weasley clucked. "He'll grow out of it. Trust me, I know. Now, why don't you and Ron go through the platform together, Harry? Best take it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."

"Come on, Mate. I went through last year. It's not like anything." Ron turned his trolley and pointed it at the wall. "You won't even feel a bump. Not unless the twins throw you through the way they did me last year."

"Here, I'll take the trolley through, Aunt Petunia." Harry took his own trolley from his Aunt. Part of his mind was still insisting that the wall was made of brick. You didn't run through brick walls without getting banged up. If he was going to charge that wall then he wanted a trolley between him and it if things went wrong.

As it turned out, the feeling was without merit. He ploughed through the pillar and onto the platform without the slightest resistance. It was as though the wall simply wasn't there, but the platform…

"Oh, _brilliant_…" Harry breathed.

"Yeah, it sure is something." Ron agreed as they both looked on at the Hogwarts Express resting by the platform in a vision of red, green, gold, and black.

Harry hadn't known that they still _made_ trains like that. The ones he was familiar with were long bullet trains made of chrome and dirty glass.

"Harry! Harry!"

The sound of Hermione's voice had Harry turning towards her before he even really realized where she was. "Hermione!" He waved as soon as he caught sight of a familiar head of bushy brown hair.

The witch reached him with her parents in tow. "Isn't it amazing, Harry? I'm so excited. I've been reading my textbooks ever since we got back from Diagon Alley. I've even learned a few spells! Did you bring Hedwig? I know that Archimedes has been lonely without company."

Harry had forgotten what an experience and excited Hermione was. "Yes, Hedwig's in her cage." Hedwig hooted a serene greeting to Hermione and another to Archimedes who was in his cage on Hermione's trolley. "Hello, Hermione. This is Ron, he'll be starting Hogwarts this year with us. His mum showed us how to get onto the platform."

"Oh, it's a trick isn't it? If Daddy hadn't leaned on the wall at the wrong moment then we'd have still been outside too." Hermione agreed. "Hello, Ron. I'm Hermione Granger. Do you come from a family of wizards, then?"

"Yeah. All my brothers went to Hogwarts and both my Mum and Dad. You're a muggle-born then?" Ron stepped aside as his mother and Harry's Aunt caught up with them. "'Lo, mum."

"Hello, Hermione." Petunia nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Granger who nodded back. "I'm glad to see you made it through. Shall we get everyone loaded up then?"

The twins pulled everyone's trunks up onto the train. They also showed Hermione and Harry where they could put the owls. The train apparently kept a small caboose for them where it was dark and quiet so the birds could nap through the ride. They all sat together by mutual consensus, except for Ron's _other_ brother, Percy, who'd apparently made prefect that year and was sitting in a separate car.

Aunt Petunia stood on the platform waving with one hand while she kept the other wrapped around her waist. Harry waved back through the window until the train pulled away and he couldn't see the platform anymore.

* * *

" … butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow..." Ron sighed as the spell fizzled out and died. "I've been had." He muttered.

"It doesn't seem like a very good spell. All the ones I've seen involve Latin or something like it." Hermione eyed Ron's fat sleepy rat, which lay comatose in the young Wizard's lap. "What book did you read about that spell in?"

"I didn't. The twins told me about it." Ron sighed.

Harry looked up from his transfiguration text. "Well, that explains it. They were probably having you on." He looked back down to his text and grimaced. "I hope this gets easier with a teacher to explain it. The first chapters are all right, but the later chapters are just so dry that I feel like a need a drink of water just opening the book."

"Well, I have some study guides that Mum got for me." Hermione offered. "They're supposed to have been written by a muggleborn to help first generation witches and wizards. That might be one of the problems you're having with your spell, Ron. The author talks about the power that belief has on magic. The way he says it the wands and spells are just… well, _foci_ for the magic. The biggest edge the hereditary witches and wizards have on the muggleborn variety is that they know about magic and have been seeing it since they were born. They don't question it, especially the spells they see their parents do everyday. He says that to perform a spell you don't need skill as much as you need desire."

"So what? My spell didn't work because I didn't want it to? That's silly. I wouldn't have been _casting_ it if I didn't want it to work." Ron groused.

"That's not what I'm saying!" Hermione huffed. "I'm saying that you didn't _believe_ that it would. Look, I'll show you. Give me that rat." She held out one hand in an imperious manner.

Ron hugged his rat close. "No! I'm not going to let you cast a spell on him! You might hurt him."

Hermione colored. "Well… well, FINE. Be that way you… you _boy_." Harry bristled a little at that last comment and Hermione turned back to him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. No offense meant… to _you_, anyway."

"Bossy little know-it-all." Ron muttered.

Hermione colored and turned her face away from Ron with one sharp motion.

"Ron, you're being a prat." Harry sighed. "Hermione isn't any of your brothers. She's not going to hurt Scabbers and she's not looking to pull a prank on you. Yes, she's being a bit bossy, but you're being a prat about it too."

The other two children eyed each other and snapped their gazes away towards opposite walls with identical (mulish) expressions. Harry sighed and started to count to ten in his head.

Hermione was the first to crack, but only by a little. Harry had only reached the number five by the time her stiff shoulders deflated and she turned in her seat to look at Ron…by the count of six Ron had done the same. They looked at each other again and without a word, Ron held out Scabbers to Hermione.

"Be careful with him. He's an old rat." Ron warned her as Scabbers squeaked in distress.

"I won't hurt him." She promised.

The young witch arranged Scabbers on her lap and drew her wand out of her sleeve. "Sunshine and butter mellow. Turn this rat yellow!" Harry noted the expression of utter conviction in her eyes. Maybe she _was_ bossy enough to even make magic do what she wanted…

A subtle shimmer of magic drifted down from her wand to envelop the rat. Scabbers shuddered as his fur took on a downy yellow hue… the same color and texture of a baby chick's down.

"Oh, brilliant…" Ron breathed. "It can be done! You're a genius, Hermione!"

The girl blushed and smiled. "Not really, I just read a lot. Um… now how do we turn him back?"

"He should change back on his own after a while, depending on how much power Hermione put into the spell." Harry turned a page. "Transfiguration isn't a permanent change, its temporary. Objects… well, they remember what they're supposed to be. After a while your magic isn't enough to hold it and it snaps back to the way it was. Living things go faster… see? Look, there he goes."

Scabbers had gotten a look at himself in the reflective metal that lined the car door. He shook himself until his downy yellow fur puffed out and then smoothed down to its former hue. With an extremely disgruntled expression, the rat eyed his owner who collected him back.

"Guess he didn't like that." Hermione observed. "Sorry, Scabbers." She apologized.

The rat snorted at her and turned its back so that it faced Ron before it hunkered down into a ball and fell asleep. Ron patted the little grey knot that was his rat. "Don't be offended. That's his reaction to everything."

There was a soft knock at the door and Hermione, being the closest, pushed the door open. A pale boy with dark hair and high color on his round cheeks poked his head into the cab. "Ah… I'm sorry…"

"Oh, let me do it." Harry blinked as a second boy pushed the door all the way open and strode inside. The boy was about Harry's height with pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes. His uniform was of a slightly better make and fabric than Harry's. After a moment, he realized that he recognized him from the tailors at Diagon Alley. The boy's parents had ushered him out of there the moment they'd laid eyes on Dudley and his Aunt. The boy examined the compartment. "Has anyone in here seen a toad?" He sighed.

Harry frowned. "Not that I noticed. Have you lost one?" He peered around the blonde boy to the smaller one who stood behind him.

"Y-yes, his name is Trevor… he's a good toad… but he g-gets lost…" The boy managed a smile for Harry and a shy wave.

"Well, we haven't seen him in here." Hermione declared. "When did you last see him?"

The boy looked helpless for a moment and shrugged. "I was on the platform and… but I saw him in my pocket when we'd gotten on the train… D-draco saw him hop by, but didn't catch him…"

"Well, I didn't know he'd gotten _away_ from someone. My aunt let hers hop all over the place. Well, if any of you see him then let Neville or I know. We'll probably be roaming the halls of this bloody train."

"Wait a moment." Harry put a bookmark in his textbook and stood up. "I'll help you look."

Draco eyed him for a moment. "Wait a moment, I know you from somewhere… you were getting fittings at Madam Malkins a few weeks ago, weren't you? Your friend there was too. You were with the muggles."

"Yes, they were my aunt and my cousin… and Hermione's parents too." Harry cocked his head. "Are you all right?"

"Ah… yes, yes. Of course I'm fine. Come on then." Draco moved with a sort of theatrical grace that made his over-robe billow and swirl behind him. "I don't have all day."

Neville stepped closer to Harry and pulled his should down so that he could whisper into Harry's ear. "Don't mind Draco. He's a bit snotty, but he's all right. Just don't take him too seriously."

Harry nodded and chose not to comment on the fact that Neville hadn't stuttered once. Maybe it was because he was whispering, but there was no real way to know. "Of course," He agreed. "Hermione, can you and Ron stay here and keep an eye on my bag? We shouldn't be long. If the lady with the cart comes by can you get me a mars bar?"

"Sure, Harry." Ron agreed. As Harry and Neville left to follow Draco he heard Ron ask Hermione, "… what's a mars bar?"

Trevor had managed to get into the Owlery cabin. They might not have found him if Hedwig hadn't started up a racket as they passed. Neville collected his toad with every evidence of pleasure.

"Trevor, you naughty boy!" Neville chided the toad. "You're lucky these are Wizard-bred owls. A wild owl would have eaten you up."

Draco sighed at Neville, but it was a tolerant sigh. "You've got a smart owl. The Snowy Owls are supposed to be intelligent, but she's something else. Do you know which breeder she came from? My Owl is nothing but vicious. I actually named him that you know, Vicious."

"Well, no one is going to mess with your mail then." Harry pointed out.

"That's what my father said." Draco shook his head. "Easy for him to say, he doesn't have to handle the beast. I have to use a sleepy charm on him every time I want him to take a letter."

"You can use Hedwig when we're at school if you like. I got her from Eeylop's Owl Emporium, she was a present from my cousin." Harry tugged at Neville's sleeve and directed him back into the main corridor. "Come on, let's go back to the compartment. Where are you both sitting?"

"I… I didn't have a chance to find a seat, neither has Neville." Draco's blue eyes shifted in a manner that suggest to Harry that it wasn't that the other boy hadn't found a seat, but rather that he had a seat he didn't want.

"Well, there's plenty of room in our compartment. You can sit with us. Do you have anything you need to fetch?" If there was one thing Harry knew, then it was how to talk around an issue in a polite fashion. His Aunt was a mistress of the art and she'd passed it on to him.

"No, I've got an enlarging charm in my sleeves." Draco reached into one of his sleeves and pulled out an elegant lunch tin and a thermos. "The cook made me a lunch for the train, but she always makes enough for four or five people."

"Gran gave me a lunch too." Neville spoke up. His stutter had eased over the past half hour so Harry had to assume it took him a bit to warm up to new people.

Harry has made his own lunch and Dudley's too while his Aunt had rushed to get everyone together. He wasn't sure how that would make him appear to the other boys so he just smiled and gave a nod. "Of course. Did you need to get anything, Neville?"

"Ah, no… I…" The boy blinked and took a deep slow breath. His gaze was riveted on something just above Harry's eyes. "You… you didn't mention what your surname was…"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Harry ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. "It's Harry, Harry Potter. I guess we missed out on formal introductions."

"Harry…oh, I see." Neville stole a glance at Draco, who seemed speechless for once. "Um… it's… it's good to meet you. So, Draco said you… you grew up with Muggles?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure why they were staring. Was there something wrong with him? "My aunt and uncle took me in after my mum and dad died in a car wreck when I was really little. My cousin was about the same age so we grew up together. My aunt didn't know much about the magical world except what my mum had told her in passing so it was kind of hard for her to tell me much about what I was. I mean, I knew I was a wizard… but not much about what that means." Harry realized that he was babbling and shut up. "… well, there's not much of a story to tell. I'm pretty boring."

"I… I see…" Draco sounded faint. "Ah… we'd better not stand around the halls talking like this. The cart lady should be coming by any time now…"

Ron and Hermione were in animated debate by the time they returned. The cart vendor had been past and sadly, did not carry Mars Bars. As a consolation, Hermione had gotten a little bit of everything to share with Harry since neither of them knew much about Wizard confectionaries.

Harry gladly split the bill with her and unloaded the contents of his lunch box to share out among his new friends. In the back of his mind he made a mental note that next yet he'd have to bring a bigger lunch box and make sure he had enough for everyone. He'd indulged and made up some fried pork-cutlet sandwiches with lettuce and spicy mustard with some German potatoes and green bean vinaigrette salad. He'd also made up some of the Ceylon tea that his Aunt had gotten him for his birthday.

Draco's cook had made a chopped steak sandwich for him. Harry was pretty sure that it was Kobe beef. It had that sort of marbled texture and color that he'd seen on the telly. The sandwich was arranged in a small nest of lettuce with the condiments and toppings arranged to the side. He had some honey glazed carrots to go with it and a braised pear for dessert.

Neville's grandmother had very English notions when it came to food. He had ploughman's lunch of solid bread, a nice cheese, a bit of beef, and an apple. Ron's mother had given him a liverwurst sandwich that he eyed with dismay. Hermione swapped him for her roast beef.

"I tell you what, Harry. If your aunt wants another kid I'll volunteer in a minute. These sandwiches are great!" Ron wolfed one down and Harry chuckled. "Whoever made these is a top notch chef. They could give lessons."

"Well, thank you." Harry took a breath. There was no point in hiding it. "I didn't think I'd get another chance to muck around in the kitchen, so I got carried away this morning. Next year I'll bring extra."

Ron blinked. "_You_ made this?"

Harry shrugged. "I like to cook and my Aunt usually needs the help."

"Harry, these sandwiches are really very good. I'm impressed! You should be going to culinary school!" Hermione had come up with the idea to cut all the sandwiches into quarters so that everyone could have some of each.

"I'll get that recipe for the cook at home." Draco offered. "She's always looking for new things to try." He leaned back with a pumpkin pastry. "I'm absolutely stuffed. If I eat anything at the welcoming feast then I might very well explode."

"I think we just had our own feast." Hermione agreed. "I do hope at least some of us end up in the same house. I'd had to have to start out alone in a new house."

"Well, hopefully some of you will end up in Gryffindor with me." Ron gulped down the last of his own pastry. "Weaselys always end up in Gryffindor. I've got five brothers and not one of them made it into another house, not even Percy and by all rights he should have ended up in Ravenclaw."

"My father says that Weaselys have 'righteousness and tiresome nobility' engraved into their bones." Draco observed and Harry hid a sigh. The two boys had been sneaking measuring glances at each other all afternoon. It had only been a matter of time before they got into it.

"Well my father says that Malfoys go into Slytherin because they feel more comfortable with the snakes." Ron bit out.

Harry cut in quickly. "Yes, now we know what both of your fathers say. That's nice. However, it's stupid to draw conclusions based on a generality. After all, we know what happens when one assumes…"

Draco barked out a laugh. "I didn't think anyone said that except my mother! All right, all right." He held out a hand to Ron. "I won't hold you dad against you if you don't hold mine against me."

"All right…" Ron took the proffered hand and shook it gingerly. "Uh… so what does happen when you assume?"

"It's an old saying." Hermione explained. "It goes: when you assume it makes an 'Ass out of U and Me'. It breaks down the word, although it's a bit of an awkward stretch. Still, it's something of a truism."

"Oh, all right then." Ron subsided. "I probably will go into Gryffindor though. I think my family ghosts would revolt if I didn't, I'd never get another night's sleep again."

"You're telling me." Draco sighed. "You should have heard my father this morning. He's already ordered my scarves and gloves from Madam Malkin. 'Well of course he's going to be in Slytherin, Narcissa. In ten generations no Malfoy has been sorted into any other house except for Bellisima and you _know_ what they said about her'."

"That sounds rough." Hermione eyed Ron and Draco. "It looks like you two have more in common than you thought." She added as an innocent afterthought.

"I think it's safe to say that Harry and Hermione are headed straight for Ravenclaw." Ron shifted the topic away from him and Draco. "Did you know that Harry's read all his textbooks already? He's on his third time through."

"Well, I know who I'm studying with." Draco declared. "Ah… speaking of… Harry, did you mind if I asked you some questions? Tell me if I get too personal."

"Well, sure." Harry set down his potions text. Actually it was only his third time through the charms text. Everything else he'd only read once, except for potions which he'd read twice.

"Did you parents… name you after the Boy Who Lived?" Draco looked slightly pained. "I'd… I'd heard that a lot of parents did that around the time we were all born… some of them even put scars on their kids. I don't mean to be a prat, but you have Neville a scare when he saw your forehead."

"Beg pardon… what about my forehead?" Harry blinked in confusion. He touched the scar on his temple by instinct. "This? Oh, no… my aunt said I got it in the car smash that killed my parents… it's the only scar I've ever kept actually. I… I uh, tended to heal things when I was young, Baby magic, you know? My aunt says it's probably why I lived."

"I'd read about that." Hermione chimed in. "The Ministry of Magic made the parents change most of the names back, but if you were living with… well, in the non-magical world then it makes sense why they might have missed you. Harry, did you know about that?"

"No, actually. I'd read a little about the Dark Lord's Fall in my History book, but it's got the same problem that most History texts have with current events. You know, it assumes that the reader knows all about it." Harry sighed in frustration and Hermione patted his hand in sympathy.

"I understand, well one of my neighbors is a wizard and he told me all about it." She looked at Ron, Draco, and Neville. "Stop me if I get any of it wrong. I haven't cross-referenced any of it yet. I thought I'd ask the teachers when I got to school."

"O-of course, Herm-hermi…" Neville sighed in defeat. "Of course."

"Well, this is the abridged version… about ten years ago there was a dark wizard, sort of like a terrorist." Hermione paused. "Well, come to think of it he was a terrorist. He was called Lord Voldemort. Most people won't even say his name. They call him 'You Know Who' or 'He Who Must Not Be Named'. Well, for one reason or another he targeted this one family. He killed the mother and the father, but when he went to kill their son…. Well, something happened. It was big. The Dark Lord died and the house was absolutely _leveled_. The baby who did it was named Harry Potter. No one knows what happened or why, but the boy was named a hero: The Boy Who Lived. More to the point, a lot of parents who had children about that age started changing their baby's name to Harry Potter. Some did it to honor him, but some tried to pass their baby off as Harry Potter. A lot of them went so far as to put a replica of his trademark scar on the baby's forehead."

"Well, it won't be so much of a problem for you, Harry." Draco made a careless sort of gesture towards the rest of the train. "In theory he'll be starting school with us this year, but I doubt anyone's going to go mistaking you for him. For one thing, I doubt the infamous Boy-who-Lived would be caught dead making his own lunches. Speaking of…" Draco's blue eyes drifted down to the makeshift picnic they'd arranged in the middle of the cabin and he snatched the last pork sandwich. "He'll probably be in Gryffindor with Ron here." He added, ruffling Ron's red hair.

"Hey! You've got more to worry about than I do." Ron gave Draco a taste of his own medicine and scrambled Draco's perfectly slicked back locks. "No celebrity is gonna hang out with me. You're the one who'll probably have to put up with him."

"What happened to Gryffindork camaraderie?" Draco sniffed and he put his hair back into place. "Besides, what Gryffindor is going to be caught dead with a Slytherin… besides you, anyway?"

"I think we're going to arrive soon…" Neville commented. He'd been showing Trevor the view from out the window. "I think I can see the castle."

"Oh, brilliant… let me see. I've never seen a castle!" Harry dropped his book and rushed to the window, followed closely by Hermione. They both craned to see.

"Well, it's kind of behind that hill… but see, there's the turrets." Neville pointed at a series of sharp points as they rose over the Scottish countryside. "See!"

Even Draco couldn't hold back a breath of awe as the ancient building came into view.

Their school was actually a massive castle made of granite that looked black against the setting sun. Every window was burning with amber light and shimmered over the lake below. The school was surrounded by a lush forest with trees bigger than any Harry had ever seen. It was a safe bet that no one had ever tried logging _there_.

"Take _that_, Smeltings." Harry murmured.

* * *

They arrived in a small town within walking distance of the school called Hogsmeade. There was a tiny platform there just for the Hogwarts Express and a large man stood there waiting to greet them.

"That's Hagrid." Ron told them all. "He's the gamekeeper for the school and he tends to do errands for the Headmaster… like picking up the students."

"First years come over to the side w'me." The man had a faint burr to his speech. Harry had to assume he was a native Scotsman. He was certainly big and hairy enough to be descended from the original picts!

As Harry passed the man caught his eye and gave him a merry wink. "Good ta see you." He rumbled. "Now, ye stay over 'ere an' outta trouble. I knew yer Da."

"Well, isn't that a bit of luck?" Draco commented as they went to gather with the rest of the first years. "I bet he's got plenty of stories to tell you."

"Well, my mum and dad both went here." Harry mused. "Still, I… I don't know much about them. It feels good to know that I might be able to learn something more."

"Family is important mate, especially in the Magical world." Ron came up to them with Hermione and Neville. "Lookit me an' Draco. Our dads have been at it for years because our grand-dads got into it in _their_ first year. Last time they met in Diagon Alley they got into a fist fight."

"Which, I might add, my father _won_." Draco drawled.

Ron eyed him. "Where were you? Your _mum_ won _that_ fight. She broke her umbrella over both our dads' head and screamed at them for brawling in the street like fishermen."

"Oh… I forgot that part." Draco shrugged. "Well, it's still a win for the Malfoys."

"Well at least _my_ mum wasn't there. She casts a nasty hex that I wouldn't wish on _anyone_." Ron grimaced. "So of course she taught it to my baby sister."

"Now boys, behave yourselves." Hermione chided. "Oh look, boats!"

The platform for the train let off by a dock right on the lake. There were about a dozen little rowboats tethered there. As Harry noted that the last of the carriages were being filled up with the upperclassmen, he realized that the boats were meant for them. "I think we're going to be riding in those." He mused.

"Well… maybe we _are_ going to have to fight that squid, Ron." Hermione teased and laughed as Ron blanched.

"D-don't say things like that, Hermione!" He sputtered.

Harry grinned as the good natured bickering surrounded him like a warm blanket. Well, Dudley had been worried for nothing.

This felt like the start of something good…

* * *

Notes: Well, here it is: Chapter Two already!

Ok, so this isn't supposed to be a 'Draco's Redemption' sort of fic. However, while I was thinking on how things might have progressed… it occurred to me that even something as minor as Hermione's placement during the train ride would have drastic results. For example, in the canon Draco did show signs of reaching out to Harry in Madam Malkin's shop where it was clear he didn't know Harry or his lineage from Adam. I kinda figure that he might have gotten a lecture from his father about that and it would have colored his reactions later on.

Also, Neville is a pureblood himself. Now if Draco had come across Neville hunting his toad alone then its possible (especially if Crabbe and Goyle were elsewhere) that he might have helped out from some sort of sense of _Noblesse Oblige_… especially if Neville wasn't accompanied by a bossy little muggleborn. I love Hermione dearly, but she gives _bad_ first impressions.

After that, well… it's just going with the flow. Draco's still not entirely comfortable with his new friends, but… well… given a choice between Harry and Co. or Crabbe and Goyle… well who would YOU pick?


End file.
